#rae will write

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

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[perfectquote]

Never be afraid to fall apart because it is an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.

Rae Smith

[thoughtkick]

Never be afraid to fall apart because it is an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.

Rae Smith

[starlitrays]

SAFEHOUSE

starring. shouta aizawa x gn!reader

summary. what happens when pro hero eraserhead, also an old flame, shows up on your doorstep, beaten and bruised and a little bloody, telling you he needs your help?

content. use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, blood descriptions, patch up descriptions bc i have first aid, emt & basic life support training, reader's quirk is 'total immunity' meaning the only way they can die is of old age although idk how relevant it is, reader and aizawa used to be kinda together, 'who did this to you?' but reader says it

a/n. can you tell yet that i'm an oxford comma lover?? | also part 2?? maybe?

navigation – masterpost

You should've gone to sleep hours ago. But you kept telling yourself, one more episode, which had become the rest of the second season of a show you were starting to hyper fixate on. You had the next day off, and whenever you did, you had a tendency to be more lenient with your bedtime, even when you regretted it in the morning with more cups of caffeine than even you deemed healthy.

Blinking hurt a little bit, your eyes dry from having been glued to you laptop screen. Your fingers mindlessly floated over to the trackpad, and you tapped it, pausing the episode. With a heavy sigh, you tilted your neck to either side, effectively popping the bones.

When you felt a dry tickle in the back of your throat, you looked off into the dimly lit space of your bedroom. The only light was from your laptop and a bedside lamp on your nightstand. Without the sound effects and voices of the characters in your new show leaving your laptop speakers, your home felt extremely quiet.

That tickle again came back to irk you again, and you realised you needed water. Setting your laptop aside, you pushed the bunch of blankets that lay over your lap to the side, swinging your legs over and off your bed. You yawned, reaching for your phone on your nightstand.

You blinked a couple times as your eyes tried to adjust to staring into the brightest light source in the room. 2:38 AM. Shaking your head at yourself, you pushed yourself out of your bed.

Using your lockscreen as a flashlight, you opened your bedroom door, shining the light down the hall. It seemed dimmer when you used it like this. Still, you stepped out of your bedroom, venturing into the darkness. It was still your space, and you trusted that you wouldn't be jump scared by anything.

You walked down your hallway, glancing into your bathroom out of habit as you reached the main area. To your right was the entryway and living room, and to your left, the kitchen and dining area. In quick strides you made your way into your kitchen, opening the cupboard just to the left of your sink. You reach for a glass and pull it down, setting it on the counter with your hand still around it while your other hand reaches forward to the faucet handle, turning it to set the water as cold as possible.

As you fill your glass, you start to feel that something is off. The air is so still, almost to the point you think you can see the dust floating around in the dark. You look around, but end up shaking your head, chalking it up to being up too late. You look down and see the glass just over half full and call it good, bringing it up to your mouth. First, small sips of the cold liquid, and then a gulp of it down your throat.

”Better.” You mumble into the air, staring at the closed sheer curtains that hang over the window over your kitchen sink.

Then there's a knock at your front door. Well, it's not so much a knock and more so a bang-like sound. Several bangs, actually. It made you flinch– jump a little bit where you stood. You set your glass on the counter and just stared at the door, unsure of how to proceed.

You heard words through the door, although you couldn't make out what they were with the distance you had from the entry point. But something persuaded you to go over to your door. You reached for the handle, and then paused when you heard a sound. A groan.

”Who is it?” You asked through the door, your hand hovering just over the lock mechanism.

”It's shit-” The voice is strained, but you recognise it immediately. ”Shouta.” It's your ex. Sort of. There was history, but you didn't end on bad terms. you both just outgrew your relationship at the time. You still cared for him deeply though, and the next bit was a no brainer.

You unlock the door and pull it open, your eyes taking in the entirety of the man before you, who's leaning against the frame of the door with his free hand clutching at his side. You knew he was a hero, Eraserhead, and how he was dressed reflected that he had just been doing something related to hero work. His dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and he looked tired, the scars on his face emphasising the exhaustion. Although bigger than anything, you could see he was bleeding. The hand holding his side had blood all over it.

”Sorry (L/n), I didn't have anywhere else-” He groaned, and your eyes shot up from his injury to his eyes. Shouta took a step forward, and you instinctively reached for him, helping him stay upright. ”to go.” He managed out, and you nodded. You guided the man inside and against the nearest wall, shutting the door behind him.

”Stay here. I promise I'll be right back.” You tell him, letting go of him. Despite the late hour and the shock of it all, you still had a moment of thinking about his blood staining your furniture. Just before you turn down the hall, you pause. ”And Shouta? It's (Y/n), you know that.” He smiles at your words as you disappear down the hallway.

You're quick to walk to the hallway's linen closet, pulling out two bath towels you save for guests and a sheet set that you can easily replace. Gently kicking the closet's door shut with your foot, you make your way back to the main area of your home and start to lay the sheet set over one of your sofas, the towels going down shortly after.

Then you stand upright and guide Shouta, one arm around his upper back, over to the sofa to lay down. ”I got you.” You repeat to him a few times when he resists letting go of you as you try to lay him down. When you feel his body tense and relax and tense and relax as he lets go of you, you sigh.

”Thank you (L/n)- (Y/n).” Shouta corrects himself, short grunts leaving his lips as he tries to readjust to get comfortable.

”Don't thank me yet, you're still bleeding out.” You dry laugh, before looking around the open space. The time you spent with the underground hero years prior had taught you some things. For example, to be aware of your surroundings. You stood up straight and double checked all of the windows were locked, as well as the front door, and you only turned on one lamp in your living room.

You were about to head back down the hall for the bathroom when Shouta spoke again, making you stop in your tracks to listen to him. When you realised he was speaking quietly, probably to himself, you moved on, taking quick strides in your bathroom. Your hands moved quickly to light switch, flicking it on, and then to the cabinet under the sink, reaching for your intensive first aid kit or, you supposed it would be better classified as a basic life support kit. Another thing you'd learned, or adapted from, your time with Shouta in the past. As you got upright again, you looked at yourself in the mirror. All sleep had disappeared from your eyes, your breathing was laboured, and your hands were, surprising stable. You weren't sure when you picked up the ability to make your hands stop shaking but if you had to take a guess? He was in your living room right now.

When you kneeled on the rug beside the sofa Shouta was on, you tried to steady your breathing, although it was a little difficult with how worrying the entire situation was.

”What happened?” You asked as you began to open the medical kit, your eyes moving to his for just second.

Shouta chuckled, and as strained as it was, it was comforting. After all, at least he wasn't dead.

”Was the hero get-up not enough of an indicator?” He asks as you begin to remove his hands from his injury, instead opting to press some of the dressing from your medical kit to his wound. From the times you'd patched both Shouta and some of his associates up before, you'd worked as a well oiled machine together. This time was no different. Right as you lifted one hand from the dressing, he took over, using his own hand to press the dressing.

”You're gonna give me a better explanation in the morning.” You tell him sternly. A man, an old flame nonetheless, shows up your doorstep bloody and about to croak and you're supposed to not want to know what happened?

Shouta's eyes fell to you. You looked worried. Worried about him. ”Of course.” He mutters, moving slowly as he tries to help you by raising his body to help him get his shirt and scarf off him. He still keeps his mouth mostly closed, his teeth grit together as he breathes out between them.

You begin to pack the dressing with more once you see that he's starting to bleed through the first set, and you start to notice that you aren't crying. You aren't tearing up like you used to on the occasion Shouta got injured. Of course, you could feel the warmth of tears behind your eyes, threatening to attempt a fall, but you were focused. The only indication of possible tears was how you sniffled every couple of minutes.

Reaching into the medical supplies, you pick up and move around various items until you find it. The needle and sterilised sutures. With those ready to go, you got up again, running to your kitchen for any kind of alcohol you had on hand. The first bottle you found was of an older scotch. A good one. Regardless, you didn't think twice before bringing it back to the rug you sat on.

Shouta's eyes followed you around as you moved. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the pain the scotch would cause him.

”This is gonna hurt.” Shouta can only nod along with your words, shutting his eyes momentarily. He purses his lips together as he releases the dressing and you begin to pour the alcohol around and over his wound.

As you tilt the bottle upright, you go to set it back down but hesitate.

”You want a sip?” You ask, and Shouta's eyes open. ”This next part is gonna hurt too.” You gesture over to the stitching equipment you have.

He smiles. ”Sure.”

You smile back at him for just a moment, and then you bring the bottle up to his face and tilt it over, only pulling it back and setting it aside when he used his hand to push at your hand.

Your hands go for the needle and sutures, and you shake your head. A mental way of making sure you weren't sleepy anymore.

When you cut the end of the stitch, you and Shouta both sighed simultaneously, and then you took a sip of the scotch yourself.

Next was the bandages. You had several types, but ended up with two kinds in hand. The first was easy to press on, it was just a large sheet of gauze with something tape-like around it. The other kind started with a sticky end so it could be applied directly on the skin.

”Alright.” You mumble, partially to yourself, partially to nobody, and partially to Shouta as you stick one end of the second bandage to his bare torso and you start to pull it around him. Shouta again lifts his body to help you, and you wrap it around him twice, cutting it with some freedom to tuck and tie the ends until you were sure it would stay in place.

You sit back on the floor with your legs tucked to the side, leaning against your coffee table at the same time Shouta lets himself relax back into the sheet and towel covered cushions of your sofa.

Through your heavy breathing, with your eyes on Shotua, you find it in you somewhere to laugh a little bit.

”Did you want a shirt now?” You ask, already about to stand up.

Shouta looks at you a little bit confused. ”Not be rude (Y/n), but I don't think your shirts are gonna fit me.”

”No, Shouta of course not. But you never came back for your stuff.”

”You still have it?” He's a little... confused? Baffled maybe? It's been years, why would you still have his clothes? Whatever the emotion is, it shows on his face.

”Have you ever known me to get rid of anything comfortable?”

Of course. He chuckles, sucking in air through his teeth at the end, his hand instinctively coming to rest just over his injury.

”In that case, would you also grab me a pair of my sweats?” He asked, smiling up at you. You only nod before you disappear from his peripheral vision. Why did you guys stop seeing each other again?

”Are you alright?” You asked when you returned to him, shirt and pants folded neatly over each other in a pile. To most, that question in this context seemed odd. But in the moment, it made sense. Shouta blinks a few times in the dimly lit room.

”I will be. Do you have eyedr-” He stops speaking when his eyes flick to you and you're already holding the familiar bottle of eyedrops out to him. It's the brand he'd told you forever ago that he preferred, and it'd sat in your mini surgery kit ever since then.

”Come to my room after you change?” You mean it more as a direction, and Shouta nods a yes to you. ”If you need help, call.” You tell him before scurrying back off to your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room up and down, from left to right, picking up the little messes scattered about the space. First a couple of socks that were strewn about, moved to a hamper. Then your laptop, you shut it down and put it on its charger. Third, you went to your linen closet and grabbed a couple of extra pillows for the other side of your bed.

”(Y/n)?” Shouta called out, and you turned to the hallway, getting back to him quickly.

Without exchanging many words, you helped Shouta sit and stand up, looping your arm around his middle and his arm around your shoulder. The walk back to your room felt slower, but you were still considerate as you could be.

When you get into your room Shouta stopped walking for a moment, so you do too. He looks around the bedroom, and you look at him. He's not judging it, just observing it. After all, it's your private space, your territory. Just as soon as the man picked up his feet again, you moved with him, walking him over to the side of the bed you don't sleep on.

He starts to let go of you, sitting down on the mattress. Carefully, you let him lie down on his own, still standing just beside him, just in case.

”You should consider being a nurse.” Shouta tells you with a smile.

You half-smile at him, a small laugh escaping you. ”I've got my hands full enough with you, Eraserhead.” You emphasise his hero name, which makes the both of you chuckle. ”Especially if these visits are going to become a thing.”

Shouta almost rolled his eyes, instead opting to wave away your words with his hand. ”I'll try not to make them a habit.”

”Good.” You respond, with a smile on your face as you help him get comfortable with the blankets and comforter on your bed. ”You good?” He nods and you retire to your usual side of your bed.

”Shouta?” He's always liked the way his name sounds coming from you.

”Hm?”

”I was serious about that explanation in the morning.” You remind him, and he smiles, although you can't see it with how you're turned towards your nightstand at the moment.

”I'll make sure to leave a note.”

You turn your head to face him with a frown. ”A note? Absolutely not. Even if I didn't want the explanation I have to replace your bandages.” You scoff.

At first he doesn't say anything, he just smiles. ”I'm glad you were awake. I missed you.” He says, and you just look at him for a moment, a little stunned.

You wanted to say more, but instead only hummed in acknowledgment. There was so much to say, to talk about, but the adrenaline was wearing off, and you were getting increasingly more tired as the late night turned early morning wore on.

You watched Shouta turn over. ”Thank you again, (Y/n).” His voice is quieter, and you smile before turning off your bedside lamp and trying to get some sleep yourself.

@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.

[whatmattersisyou]

Hua Cheng is the Simpest of Simps™ and I, as a simp myself, get him so much. Loving someone the way he loves Xie Lian is terrifying and also amazing. Been there, done that, still doing it and I don't wanna do anything for the rest of my life.

His love is in the big gestures but also in the smol things.

It's in the 10k statues but also telling Xie Lian to cry out if it hurts. it's in sacrificing his unlife so that Xie Lian can live and thrive. It's also in being the most sincere person he'd ever meet.

It's in the gentle way he paints Xie Lian, in the soft, delicate brush of hands at the Gamblers Den. It's in wanting to protect him without caging him in. It's in allowing Xie Lian to be himself, and be there with him.

Don't fight me on this cause I don't have the spoons, but I believe that love is a choice. And Hua Cheng has been making that choice for 800 years and will make it for the rest of eternity.

It's all-encompassing and it is so, so scary. When you love someone like that, you have so much to lose. Yet Hua Cheng always chooses love and I can't respect him more for that.

[kraeted]

MINORS DONT INTERACT

Although you didn’t necessarily think of your old college friend, Asahi, as a freak in the sheets, you were surprised to find out that, at 27, he was still a virgin. He was definitely not a proud one, after one too many dates had ghosted and cancelled on him when they found out. Nothing would make him happier than getting it over with and finally be able to resume his dating life. So being the good friend you were (and totally not to trying still your own sexual frustration after being sexless for nearly a year), you offered to take his virginity. He nearly choked on his coffee when you finished your proposal, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The “you know I left a part of my back in New York” to “I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath” pipeline—

Something about how New York symbolized freedom and rebirth and adulthood and the then-summit of her career until it crumbled and London became the at-first necessary retreat from the world when it got to be too much to bear.

And the part of herself she left in New York symbolically could have been the part of her that still craved the attention, the performing, the superstardom, that she felt like she had to abandon to live her life. Among all the other questions about “hoax” about a painful betrayal, the questioning in the bridge is like, I left this part of me behind to make this work and you knew what it cost me, but you still did what you did. So I gave up this part of my life to make a life with you, and in the end you still betrayed me and metaphorically (or actually) abandoned me along with it.

Again not saying this is right or that that’s what hoax is about but just noting an interesting thematic parallel etc.

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Good Luck, Babe!

Pairing: Jackie x Fem! Reader 3k words

Summary: she was yours, but to everyone else she was Jeff's.

Warnings: internalized homophobia, cheating (kind of?). Sort of fluffy with a ton of angst and an angsty ending

I used so many lines or quotes from Good Luck, Babe! in this, so enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------

It was times like these you loved the most. Time spent in your bedroom, getting ready for parties together. Just you and Jackie. There was no pressure for perfection, no Jeff or Shauna to take Jackie's attention from you. Your definition of paradise.

You sat on your bed, watching as Jackie tried on outfit after outfit in front of you, trying to decide what to wear. You'd said some variation of "that looks good" to all of them, but Jackie still wasn't satisfied. She had to look perfect.

Not that you ever thought she didn't.

"What about this one?" She looked up at you, hazel eyes wide and questioning. 'This one' was a denim miniskirt and long sleeved baby blue top that showed just a hint of stomach.

"I like that a lot. You look good in blue."

Jackie sighs, like you've personally affronted her by not falling to your knees and proclaiming her beauty. You're about to succumb to stooping that low, just to get her to finally choose an outfit. Before you can, she nods and plops down at your vanity to finish up her hair.

"You could be a little more enthusiastic, you know." Jackie pouts up at you, brush midway through her hair.

It takes a lot for you to not roll your eyes. It's not that you don't care, but after outfit number five you always tend to get a little bored.

"Jax, you know you look good in everything." Standing up from your bed, you walk up behind her; staring at her face in the mirror. It's the truth. You think she looks stunning in everything.

Jackie, in turn, rolls her eyes at you in the vanity mirror, clearly exasperated with you. Before she can say anything, though, you tilt her head towards you and press a kiss to her lips. She, as expected, goes bright red at the action, and you can't help but laugh. No matter how many times you've kissed her, she always reacts the same way.

"I'm in the middle of something." She's pouting now, and lightly swats at your arm in what appears to be retaliation.

You want to say 'so I can't kiss my girlfriend anymore?', but you're not sure if that would land. Technically, she wasn't your girlfriend. Which totally didn't bother you. At all. It also totally didn't bother you that she was still dating Jeff. Kind of. It's complicated.

So, instead of continuing to pester her, you sit back on the edge of your bed, watching her as she continued to get ready. It doesn't take long before she's looking down at you impatiently, like somehow you were the one making her wait.

"I'm ready."

"I see that," you reply, standing up from your position on the bed, wrapping your arm around Jackie's waist before pressing a kiss to her cheek. She flushes yet again, and you wonder if she'll ever get used to your affection. Even behind closed doors, she's scared of people seeing you. It's fine. It's cool. Didn't bother you at all.

Soon, she's dragging you towards your car, all energy and life. So Jackie you can barely stand it. If it were up to you, the two of you wouldn't even be going to this stupid party. You'd be sat up in your bedroom, watching another shitty romcom. Unfortunately for you, Jackie decided she needed to make an appearance. Popular girl bullshit, you presumed, but what Jackie wanted, Jackie got. Especially when it came to you.

So, begrudgingly, you found yourself driving to Lottie's party, Jackie chattering to you excitedly from the passenger seat. You tried to enjoy it while it lasted, knowing she'd pretend you barely exist as soon as you walk in the door.

Part of you wanted to call it off, break up with her and make her figure her shit out. But then she'd look at you the way she is now, like you're the only person in the world who matters, and all thoughts of a breakup leave your mind.

The short rest of the drive is spent like that, Jackie talking and you listening. It's nice. Peaceful, even. The way the two of you can just be. No expectations, just each other. At least in the confines of your car.

About ten minutes later, you've pulled up to Lottie's house- no, mansion, and you steel yourself to brave the partygoers. Steel yourself to watch Jackie and Jeff be all over each other, even though Jackie always promises you that she won't be. It'll probably be even worse tonight, after Natalie decided to insinuate that the two of you were a couple a couple of days ago. Jackie swore up and down that the two of you were nothing, but somehow Nat knew the truth. And that scared Jackie, so you knew that tonight she was going to drown herself in Jeff, surround herself with boy, something you knew you could never give her.

As you step inside, Jackie beelines to the drinks, leaving you in the foyer of Lottie's massive home. Great.

You weren't totally sure if Shauna had shown up yet, and you knew that none of your other friends would be there. So, you set off to find something to occupy your time. You could find Jackie, but watching her with Jeff sounds like your nightmare, so that idea's out the window.

Instead, you decide to see if Shauna was at the party already. If nothing else, it gave you something to do. You wander around the party for a bit, saying hi to people you know, having a few short conversations with them. It's not exactly your idea of a good time, but it's better than standing up against the wall by yourself.

Half an hour later, you finally spot Shauna and breathe a sigh of relief. Thank god. You walk over to her, grateful to finally have someone to talk to.

"Where's Jackie?" are the first words out of her mouth, and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes.

"I'm not totally sure. I saw her with Jeff a little bit ago, but haven't since."

"She ditched you pretty fast." Shauna gives you a look, and you shrug. You knew Shauna had some idea of what was going on with you and Jackie, but she didn't know everything. And for Jackie's sake, you were going to keep it that way.

Not that Shauna would care, not really. And Jackie knew that. The issue was that if anyone, even Shauna, knew her secret, Jackie wouldn't be able to lie to herself anymore.

So, your mouth remained firmly shut. No one, absolutely no one, really knew what you and Jackie were. Maybe you were a fool for living in the closet for her. Yet you didn't want to lose her. There wasn't a way for you to win this.

"Let's go find her." Shauna's words snap you out of your thoughts, and you nod, following as she makes her way through the bodies of your classmates. At least with Shauna there, you had someone to talk to when Jeff and Jackie got to be too much.

It didn't take long to find Jackie, and as expected, she was tangled up with Jeff. When she saw you, she didn't move away from him, but she did shoot you a smile. At least she was acknowledging your existence. That was a win.

Jackie began to talk to Shauna, something about the game that weekend. You weren't really listening, too distracted by the way Jeff's arms wrapped around Jackie, trapping her close to him. She has to feel suffocated like that, someone she doesn't really want keeping her so close.

You realize, after a moment, that you're staring. It's then that you snap out of it, not wanting to look jealous. Even though you definitely were.

The group of you stayed like that for the rest of the party, occasionally someone leaving to get a drink, or one of the other girls from the soccer team stopping to talk. The only thing you found yourself doing, though, was staring at Jackie. You so badly wanted to pull her away, drive her home, and have her undivided attention. For now, though, you were stuck at this stupid party, your not-girlfriend cuddled up with a guy right in front of your face. This was hell.

Eventually, though, you did get to leave. Jackie untangled herself from Jeff, but not before he could give her a kiss. You clenched your fists at your sides, resisting the urge to to throttle Jeff. Not that you'd get very far, but it's the principle of the thing.

You make your way back to your car, Jackie chattering to you as you went.

'You'll be at the game tomorrow, right?" she asks as you slide into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, of course." Tentatively, you reach across the console, silently asking her to hold your hand. She accepts, and you smile. She still wanted you. Even if she didn't act like it in public, she still wanted you.

This time, the ride is a bit quieter, Jackie not talking much. You rub your thumb across the skin of her hand, and she squeezes yours in return.

--------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you're sitting on the bleachers, watching Jackie play. You note the lack of Jeff in the stands, and wonder if Jackie told him not to come, or he just didn't want to. Either way, you were happy.

You watch as the Yellowjackets score goal after goal, cheering obnoxiously every time Jackie scores. Of course, you can't be too focused on her, but it's hard not to be. The way she plays is just so mesmerizing, and she looks like she just belongs on the field.

The game is mostly uneventful, the Yellowjackets crushing the other team like usual. You move to your car to wait as Jackie talks to Coach, then Shauna. Finally, fifteen minutes later, Jackie bounds up to you. She's smiling like crazy, and her bangs are sticking to her forehead from sweat. You've never wanted to kiss her so badly.

You roll down the window so that you're able to hold a conversation with her.

"We won."

"Yes, I know. I was there."

She rolls her eyes, bouncing around to the other side of the car and getting inside.

"You could pretend to be excited," she huffs, giving you a look.

"Did you not hear me cheering for you?"

She laughs, and you're glad her sour mood was just for show.

"Do you wanna grab lunch?" she asks, looking at you with pleading eyes. Even if you were going to say no, which you weren't, you couldn't have resisted that face.

"Yeah, you have any ideas?" You had to focus intently on not grinning like a lovestruck fool, but it was difficult considering Jackie had just asked you out on a date. Kind of. It was still complicated.

"There's that cute little coffee shop that Shauna's obsessed with. I've been a couple of times, the food was honestly pretty good. We could go there?" She glanced at you, waiting for your response.

You shrug, giving a small nod. "Yeah, that sound's good."

Jackie smiles, and quickly glances around the parking lot and adjacent soccer field. When she sees that you're the only people left there, she leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek. She's blushing, as always, but seems a bit more confident this time. It warms your heart, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, she's coming to terms with the fact that she's a lesbian.

She settles back into the passenger seat and starts to animatedly describe each of the plays from the game. You're not paying much attention to what she's saying, more focused on her voice and her scent from the seat next to yours. You'd never admit it, but you loved the way she was after a game. A little bit imperfect. A lot more Jackie. You sort of wished she was like that all the time.

"-although, I swear to god, if Natalie shows up late to another practice, I'm going to lose my mind. We're on track to make it to states, maybe even nationals. Yet Nat thinks she can just skip because she's screwing some college guy." Jackie chatters on about team dynamics and who she wishes was more invested in making it to nationals, while you half listen.

"How has she not gotten benched, if she's consistently late or missing?" you inquire, briefly turning to Jackie before focusing back on the road.

"I don't fucking know, honestly. Probably because she's still a decent player, even if she ditches practice. It's just so annoying." She sounds slightly exasperated, and you squeeze her knee for a bit of comfort.

"I'm sure she'll come back around soon. She's never been known to keep a fuck buddy around for long," you remark, citing what the rumor mill had told you about Natalie Scatorccio. You didn't know the girl that well, but she seemed nice. Even if Jackie often had complaints.

Jackie shrugs. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Doesn't make it any less annoying now, though."

You nod in agreement, and Jackie goes back to talking. This time, though, she's debating a color scheme for her and Shauna's future Rutgers dorm. You weigh in when she asks, telling her your preferences, or giving her examples of colors Shauna might like. By the time you get to the coffee shop, she still hasn't decided on a theme. The topic, however, is changed once you order your lunch and sit down at a table by the windows.

It's nice, being with her like this. It feels like a real date, like you're not hiding that you're together from everyone you know. Or, well, like you're actually together in the first place. Not something in-between where there's no label, no saying 'we're girlfriends', not even to each other.

You shove those thoughts out of your mind, focusing on what's in front of you. How Jackie's sitting across from you, smiling, laughing, talking about anything and everything. Treating you like you're the most important person alive.

Lunch continues like that, like a real date, and you find yourself falling harder for her than you thought possible. The way she got so excited about things she's passionate about. The way she talks with her hands. The way she hits her foot against yours under the table when she thinks you're not paying attention.

Eventually, though, when you'd been at the coffee shop for a couple of hours, and both of you were finished with your meals, you did have to leave. Jackie had plans with Shauna, and you had to work on an essay for English class.

You dropped Jackie off at her house, and she smiled back at you while walking to the front door. The way she looked at you made your heart absolutely melt, and for a moment, nothing but her mattered.

--------------------------------------------------------

`Jeff was climbing out her window.

Jeff fucking Sadecki was climbing out of Jackie Taylor's window, and you were supposed to be okay with that.

Why wouldn't you be, right? Why wouldn't you be okay with that? It's not like Jackie was your girlfriend or anything.

The thing was, you understood that she wanted the protection of Jeff in public. Why she felt the need to stay in the closet. You understood. You never wanted to make her uncomfortable, or to push her to do things she wasn't ready for.

What you didn't understand, though, is why Jeff was inside her house. With Jackie. And you didn't know about it.

How long had it been happening? How long had she been seeing Jeff without you knowing?

You were suddenly furious, angrier than you had ever thought possible. She was so self absorbed, so stuck in her own shit, that she didn't even think about how this would affect you.

Waiting until Jeff's car disappears down the street, you get out and walk to the door of the Taylor home. Knocking on the door, you wait for a response, silently hoping Jackie's parent's aren't home. You don't want them to bear witness to what's about to happen. You may be pissed at Jackie, but you still loved her, and didn't want her parents finding out about what had been going on between the two of you.

When a few minutes later Jackie opens the door, the first words out of your mouth are "Are your parents home?"

"No. Are you okay?"

Instead of answering, you push past her, storming up to her bedroom. She follows, completely confused, still asking questions.

"Are you sleeping with him?" You finally ask, turning around to face her. Jackie's face goes completely white, all the blood rushing from it. That's all you need to confirm your suspicions.

"What the fuck, Jackie. You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell me? You were just what? Going to fuck him, be his fucking girlfriend, when we both know full fucking well that you don't like boys? Jesus Christ."

You pause for a moment, but before Jackie can get a word in, you're back to your angered ranting.

"One day, when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, you're going to put your head in your hands and realize you're nothing more than his wife. And when you think about me, all those years ago? You're going to hate to say it, but I fucking told you so. Good fucking luck, babe." Without waiting for a response, you push past her again, stomping down the stairs, outside, and back into your car.

Before she can catch up to you, if she was even trying to, you pulled out into the street and drove away. It's not until your halfway home that you're crying, realizing what just happened. You can barely see the road through your tears, and faintly, you realize that the mixtape she made for you is playing through the speakers of your car. You can't bring yourself to turn it off.

[beach-bear-enjoyer]

fatz fatz bo batz

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[perfectquote]

Stop thinking that other people are going to come and save you. You gotta save yourself.

Rae Earl

[thoughtkick]

Never be afraid to fall apart because it is an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.

Rae Smith

[starlitrays]

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE

starring. pro hero!katsuki bakugo x pro hero!gn!reader

summary. set several months into the fake relationship, bakugo doesn't really like you and you tolerate him, but you both know how to appease an audience | 1.7k words

content. fake dating (obvi), second person pov, bakugo having conflicting feelings, use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, fluff if you squint, x is still twitter bc i said so, reader has a pet cat, this feels choppy to me

a/n. first time writing in awhile AND first fic post AND and i didn't fully get into the flow until i was almost done so be patient i might rewrite this after awhile

navigation – masterpost

The cameras ate up every helping you two gave them. You and Katsuki were extremely lovey dovey around the cameras no matter where they were, but when there wasn't a camera or paparazzi or a fan around you two, neither of you said much.

It had been arranged by your managers without much input from either of you, to fake date, that is. It was for approval ratings, popularity polls, and although you individually did well enough on your own, together you shot up the charts. Neither of you particularly liked each other but you could be civil to each other, and you knew how to play a camera, so it was working out well.

Now you sat, thigh to thigh next to Katsuki with his left hand held in your lap with both of your hands, smiling at the interviewer talking to the two of you. He wasn't smiling, although that was normal. The crowd, filled with live audience members and other paparazzi looking for the perfect shot, stared in awe at the perfect couple the two of you were.

When the interviewer would ask a question, you'd turn and wait for Katsuki to say something first, and if he didn't or he turned to face you, that meant it was your turn to answer the question.

”Now, there is one question that a lot of your individual and combined fans have been asking a lot lately.” The interviewer, Notaui, began, although he paused, waiting for some kind of approval from the two of you.

You started to nod a yes, and Katsuki spoke up. ”Go on.” He sounded annoyed. He always sounded annoyed though, and you were internally rolling your eyes, although that never poked through to your facial expression. Pure focus in media and PR training had taught you how to maintain an expression while feeling something else entirely.

”Can we expect to hear of a save the date anytime in the near future?” Notaui lifted his brows up at the happy couple. You turn your head to Katsuki, but he freezes, and you squeeze his hand, letting him know you would take care of it. After all, this was bound to come up eventually, and you were prepared.

”Notaui c'mon, wouldn't that ruin the surprise of a proposal?” You say with a laugh, getting the attention off Katsuki for a few moments. At the sound of your laugh, your counterpart dry laughs right along with you. You didn't need a quirk to feel the realisation of the stupidity of the question ripple through the audience. ”Besides we're in no hurry.” You continue, turning and smiling at the crowd with a wink.

The answer you gave was perfect, Katsuki knew that. He also knew that his manager would praise him for letting you handle it, but it still pissed him off a little bit, even if the rewards got him exactly where he'd wanted to be since he decided he wanted to be a pro hero.

Notaui cleared his throat, and his cheeks got a little rosy out of what most would assume was embarrassment, but you could tell, it was disappointment from not getting the answer the producers wanted.

”You just say when.” Notaui laughed, winking at the camera. It made both you and Katsuki question how this guy got his own show, but nobody knew that. ”Oh and guess what, that's time.” He announced, telling you, Katsuki and the audience that the segment of you two sitting there looking perfect, was over.

Katsuki stood up before you did, and with your hands holding his, you were quick to follow suit.

You walked over to Notaui, releasing Katsuki’s hand to shake his, politely thanking him for having the two of you on. Katsuki didn’t shake the guy’s hand, instead just nodding along with your words before ushering off the stage just behind you, barely sparing a second glance at the audience you smiled and waved at. Still, you smiled as you politely thanked all of the behind the scenes crew, just like your manager had told you while Katsuki floated around you, hands in his pockets. 

When you two finally managed your way into the elevator and the doors shut, you both let our heavy sighs almost simultaneously. You glanced over at Katsuki, who had looked over to you at the same time. We’re spending too much time together. You thought to yourself, eyes returning to anything but him.

The ding of the elevator had your smile returning and your hand reaching for Katsuki’s for just a moment longer as you left the building, where a car had been pulled around for you both. Letting go of his hand, you reached forward, pulling the back door open before sliding all the way over to the farthest seat. Katsuki got in, sitting closest to the door he pulled shut. This left just the middle seat between you two.

“Well that was bullshit.” Katsuki muttered, arms crossed while his eyes glared out the tinted window. You turned your head to him momentarily, rolling your eyes as your head turned back to looking out your own window.

“For once I agree with you.” You responded, reaching into your purse for your phone. It’d become routine now, to check your phone after every time you and Katsuki would go out together. First you open your messages, giving a thumbs up response to your manager’s text about doing great. Then you read your mom’s text about how proud she and your father were to see you on TV, which you half-smile at. They didn’t know your relationship with Katsuki wasn’t real. Your mom gets a ‘thanks mom :)’ text back, and you close out of your texts.

Deciding against checking your email, you click on the blue icon with a white bird on it. You ignore the top tweets in your timeline, moving over to the explore page. There it is.

“We’re trending again.” You say into the air, eyes never leaving your phone screen. Katsuki just hums in response. You tap the trending tag, scrolling through tweet after tweet. Of course there were a few people who hated you, or Katsuki, or both of you, but most of the tweets were big hero culture news outlets and fans raving about you guys. Sometimes you did feel a little guilty about the whole thing. Making people happy made you happy, but it’s not like any of it is true. Regardless, you go ahead and like some of the fan tweets. 

Katsuki leans his head back against the headrest of his seat. He mumbles something under his breath and you turn to him. “What?” You ask him, eyes scanning his face.

He huffs, desperately willing himself not to roll his eyes as he always does. “I said, you’re too good at this, (L/n). Better than you should be, anyways.” He says, looking away from you. You quirk a brow up at him. “I mean-” He pauses, as if thinking over his words. “how are you always so cheerful with the fans and press?” The questions echoes in your ears.

“Easy. I think about going home.” You responded, more nonchalantly than you left. Of course the lie was tiring, but being in your own bed, surrounding by blankets and pillows and your cat Zero, his different fur colours always keeping him quite clear in your vision in contrast to the shades of your bedding as your eyes scan over the screen of your laptop, giggling at the youtube video displayed on the screen. 

Katsuki looks at you.. oddly? It’s almost a scowl, but not quite. It’s almost like he’s simply displeased. You stare right back at him and pull your lips tight together, silently reiterating your words. He grunts in response, it’s his nonverbal version of ‘okay.’ 

As the driver rounds the last corner before your apartment, you notice something in your peripheral vision. Was that..? You question, eyes looking into the driver’s rear view mirror. You can’t be sure of what you’re seeing since the angle is meant for the driver, not a passenger, but when the car stops just outside the carpark of your apartment complex, you take the chance to glance back as your readjust in your seat, gathering your purse and looking around for anything else you may have left behind in the car. Cameras. You were seeing cameras, maybe they were fans, maybe they were paparazzi, that you couldn’t tell. 

You reached for the door handle, when you felt your phone buzz. Sighing shortly, you reach for your phone, a text from your manager being the sole notification at the bottom of the screen. Without clicking it, your Face ID unlocks your phone, switching the text from a new message notification, to showing the contents of the text. It tells you that there are eyes on you and Katsuki which, granted, you knew, but it always made you shiver at how she always knew.

While you didn’t like the idea of inviting a man prone to outbursts into your safe haven, you still acted immediately. You couldn’t help how your media-trained mind worked. “Give me your jacket and come with me.” You say into the air, words clearly meant for Katsuki and he looks over to you from the window, confused while you typed back an ‘okay’ text to your manager.

When he didn’t move immediately, you lifted your eyes from the screen and looked at him. “Bakugo, now.” You told him, eyes looking at him almost as if he was crazy. Katsuki began to shed his jacket, handing it over to you with a frown. 

“Why am I going with you?” He asks, rolling his shoulders back. You start to drape the jacket over your shoulders.

“I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.” You huff, offering your hand out to him. “Ready?” 

All he does is slide his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers with a nod and a grunt.

Oh the things you do to remain at the top.

@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.

[whatmattersisyou]

Very random thought/headcanon about ghost fires burning the colour of what they're feeling, how they died, all the resentment they hold

Most of them are blueish/greenish/cyanish/cold colours at first cause they are very lost and misplaced and confused and don't know who they are or what to do

(ghost fire Qi Rong was green, envy?)

(ghost fire He Xuan was the deep blue he drowned in, the kind of blue that feels like a black hole, a depth with no end, a well dug so deep into the soil it unearths powers and creatures that should've been kept way underground)

Then there's smol ghost fire HC who is Not Lost who knows why he's there for, who he's there for, who burns crimson and yellow and orange cause those are the colours of a hearth fire and it reminds him of Xie Lian's robes when he caught him during the parade and Honger might have never had a warm home in his whole life, but he felt warm and safe in Xie Lian's arms and he wants to give some of that back to him even if as a smol useless cold ghost fire

[h4rring1on]

I have a request, can I have one where Eddie and the reader is Eddie best friend, later on Eddie starts dating Chrissy but he doesn’t know that the reader likes him. The reader being sad and distant towards him though out the time.. Eddie being confused and mad at reader and thinking she is jealous, later on gets into argument with her doesn’t talk to the reader for a few weeks, very angst, for the end you make your own if you want fluff or angst. Thank you, I love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: i’m so excited for this i hope i did well though. 💔💔 did i lose my touch be honest 🙏🏻

you and eddie have been friends for god knows how long, ever since that day at recess, you’d been playing with this random toy you’d seen and he was quick to confront you, it was his!

after you ran off crying, he came to you and handed you the same toy.

‘jus quit crying! jeez you can have it!!’

ever since then, you’d been inseparable. you were around a year or two younger than him. so when he was held back in school, you were catching up to him which made you even closer than you already were

soon enough, you’d developed a crush on him. at first, it was harmless. maybe a little giggle here and there, a tiny thought in the back of your mind maybe once a week

i’d date him

but it was never anything to act upon, since you weren’t all that interested in him. until it just got worse and worse, and robin had quite the earful about it practically every day!

steve also heard about it a few times here and there since he was usually in the background stacking the shelves or so, but not the full story

you couldn’t help it though. he was so kind to you, he’d get you snacks n everything! you had a tradition, every friday night you buy a ton of snacks and watch a cheesy movie!

it was your thing.

he was so caring and loving to you that people generally thought you were dating until they got the unfortunate news

you were content with being only friends though, at least he still did quite a lot for you. up until that one day

that horrible day. where everything got ruined

you’d been walking with eddie around the school halls, talking, until he bumped into chrissy.

“oh my gosh i’m so sor…” she trails off as she looks at him

he smiles and grabs the things from the floor

“it’s all good pretty” he says and she’d suddenly opened a conversation, it was too awkward for you so you just went on to class, since you were obviously not gonna sit and watch them talk. which took like a year to finish, he didn’t even come to class!

what could’ve been so interesting he missed class to talk about.

it kept going on like this, he stopped sitting with you during break time, he’d walk her home, he’d miss classes for her, and you had held it all in up until he did it.

he did it.

you had been waiting for the past three hours at the supermarket so he could come, it was friday night, which meant it was time for your tradition.

he didn’t come, and you broke when, on your way home, you saw him and chrissy going into the movie theater, smiling as wide as possible.

he’d broken the 5 year long tradition…for her?

you went home sobbing, if anyone knew why, they’d think it would be a stupid reason, but it wasn’t. it truly hurt. he practically chose her over you.

you stopped trying to think positively after that, to just say, it’s fine! it’s just today! or—he didn’t mean to, maybe he forgot!

both steve and robin noticed it after you stopped talking about him so much, or even talking to him for that matter.

everytime he’d approach you, you’d mumble out some short response and leave. and he definitely noticed, even in the times where he does sit with you, you’d get up and leave.

it kept going on like this up until on your walk home, he grips your wrist and turns you, not harshly but firm enough to stop you.

you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him, expecting something

“well?” he says and you look around, confused

“what?”

“wh—what?? you’re asking what?? you’re not gonna explain why the hell you’ve been acting so weird?” he spits out, it was clear he’s had enough

you shrug, “weird how?” you question

“don’t bullshit me. you know exactly what i’m talking about! what the hell is going on with you!”

you laugh, as if he really had the right to ask that after how he’s been acting

“what’s going on with me? how about what’s going on with you, munson!” you spit out, and he furrows his eyebrows, you’d never use his last name..

“you stop sitting with me at lunch, you miss classes just to see her, you barely ever see me! and—on top of all that—you miss our night. our night! the one we do every single week for the past five years and for what? chrissy? little princess of hawkins chrissy?”

he scoffs, “jesus christ—chrissy? that’s what this is about?!” he says and shakes his head

“yes it’s about chrissy! you barely even know her!”

“oh my god, i don’t think that’s any of your business! if youre so jealous because of how amazing she is just say that!”

“jealous? are you kidding me? that’s what you think this is? grow up, eddie!” you spit out

“it’s obviously jealousy! look at you! you see one girl that’s ten times better than you look my way and you go crazy!” he says and you pause, your heart clenched, how could he say that?

“what’s wrong with you? how could you even say that? i’ve been your best friend for—“

“don’t give me that bullshit! don’t play the victim! what is it, huh? because she’s popular? because she’s pretty? just admit you’re fucking obsessed! i don’t know how i ever even became friends with a freak like you”

your vision blurs, you don’t even say anything, you just turn and walk away, silently crying. who was this person?

eddie didn’t even bother to stay, he was quick to leave too. you walked into family video, robin wasn’t there, but steve was. and he was quick to notice your puffy red eyes, he rushed to you

“hey—hey hey peach.” he says softly and hugs you, and you breakdown in his arms, “woah woah—it’s okay…it’s okay” he rubs your back, trying to soothe you, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

you didn’t go to school for a couple of days, but when you did, you didn’t even bat an eye at eddie. who, in the meantime, was getting swallowed into a hole of utter guilt and shame.

he wasn’t even fully there when he was with chrissy, and in class, he’d stare at you the whole time. it went on like this for weeks, and eddie couldn’t take any more.

he didn’t even care about chrissy, and he’d realized your words were right and that she wasn’t really all that. how could be so blinded by her popularity and looks?

those weeks were hell, he’d truly realized how much he liked you, and how agonizingly painful it was to not be able to see you or talk to you at all.

so he dumped chrissy, and didn’t really feel anything. he picked up some flowers on the way and knocked on your door, this was it

you opened the door, surprised to see him, eddie noticed how pretty you look…and how he looked dead compared to you, he’s been suffering without you, you were too…right?

he calls your name and sighs, “i just…i wanted to explain myself—that day—i didn’t mean anything i said i swear to you. and—for chrissy—you were right. you were right about everything and it broke me when i stopped talking to y…” he trails off, his heart shattering at the sight of steve, in some boxers and no shirt, showing up from behind the door

you look away, and eddie didn’t speak, he just stays there, the anger building up.

“i’ll see you in a second baby okay?” you say and kiss steve before walking out and closing the door, and the look on eddie’s face got worse when you kissed steve

“wh—you’re dating him? you’re dating the king of hawkins?! that dipshit?!” he yells, how could you do this?!

wasn’t this ironic?

“what! jesus christ, this is about steve? really?” you mimic him, “if you’re so jealous about how amazing he is just say that” she says and smiles, walking away.

eddie mentally curses himself, she’d repeated the same words he said to her.

it was over. he’d lost his chance with the most amazing girl he’s ever met without realizing it.

that’s what he gets though

[wndaswife]

here is the fic post :3 (this might change and there r more tags to be added) (also sub mommy wanda won the poll by 4%)